Isn't It Time for a Runner-Stoner Alliance?

As I was sitting in my Honda minivan at 1:00 in the morning pounding Pringles and chugging Powerade as my children slept quietly in their beds (I hoped), I wondered what a passer-by might make of the situation. Of course, he wouldn't have time to think at all because if he's on my street at that hour staring inside my Honda minivan, he wants trouble so I'd give it to him by channeling my inner Ender Wiggin and smashing the back of my head into his nose and sending his nasal bone into his brain--killing him instantly--and kicking him in the face and groin as he fell to the ground for good measure.  I would then play video games and unwittingly destroy an entire sentient alien species and afterwards attempt to convince myself that I'm not a killer like my brother Peter.

Don't mess with Ender Wiggin.

So I'm pounding Pringles and chugging Powerade in my Honda minivan at 1:00 in the morning when it occurred to me how much stoners and runners had in common. What other sub-species would pound Pringles and chug Powerade at 1:00 in the morning while sitting in their Honda minivan in front of their house?

Both eat a lot. Both go off for long periods of time by themselves for no apparent reason. Both smell like skunk after partaking in their hobby. Both respond incoherently before, during, and after hobby engagement. They are both viewed suspiciously by law enforcement. They enjoy PowerBars.

Both are paranoid. Last night for instance I thought I'd go out for a quick 15-miler through the paths of Sunset Park. Sunset Park is a large park in a heavily populated area in Las Vegas. The paths cut through desert-looking areas, full of sage brush, cacti, jack rabbits, and as I found out last night, bobcats and coyotes.

This would be the leader of the coyote faction that desired my swelling brain in a stew.

I swear I saw a bobcat cut across my path followed moments later by a coyote. Images of coyote/bobcat government officials meeting clandestinely to plot my demise tortured my brain. I began scouring the trail looking for large enough sticks to clobber my way out of certain death. I tried to analyze whether or not I could uproot the wooden posts that line the path or use the steel wire attached to it to strangle the wild animals, which I had concluded must be rabid. Visions of my death from brain swelling appeared. There I lay, frothing at the mouth, begging for a Vitamin Water as my brain swelled and hundreds of mammals circled my body eagerly anticipating a meal. This was on lap 2. I ran an additional 3 laps despite my fear.

By the way, runners and stoners are kind of stupid too.